


Involving Pleasure (And Sometimes Anxiety)

by leiascully



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-31
Updated: 2007-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd be gone in the morning and she'd wash the sheets and be done with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Involving Pleasure (And Sometimes Anxiety)

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S3  
> A/N: Happy Smut Tuesday! Title's from the wikipedia definition of "anticipation".   
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are the property of Shore Z, Bad Hat Harry, and Fox. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

She took him home. Just another idiot, just another stupid date, but at least he was willing. His eyes lit up when he saw her breasts and she let that be enough.

It was good sex. Or at least it was sex and he cared that she came, whether it was pride or a genuine desire to please her, and she counted it as a victory. He stripped her down a little faster than she'd expected, his hands fumbling at the clasp of her bra. She kept the lights off and didn't kiss him much. His hungry mouth had slipped to her breasts anyway, sucking, nipping. Her back arched against him and she slid her hands over his bare back, both of them damp with sweat in the heat of summer. Her window was open and the air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. The sound of cicadas rubbed against her eardrums like stubble over her skin, though the guy was cleanshaven. Kurt, she thought his name was. She wasn't ashamed that she wasn't sure. He'd be gone in the morning and she'd wash the sheets and be done with him. Neither of them were pretending it was anything more.

He pushed her up against the wall, kissing her shoulders. His fingers were in her panties, sliding along her cleft. She wasn't sure if the dampness there was sweat or lust: either way, she was less wet than she'd expected, and it was a little painful when he pushed in three fingers with no prelude. He reached for her g-spot and she gasped, but she was thinking of the open window, of House fishing through her underwear drawer, of how this pair of panties would sag after such rough treatment. If House found them, he'd know that she'd been bringing people home, that she'd had sex with someone else.

That, surprisingly, was a satisfying thought.

She kissed Kurt or Calvin or Clay or whatever his name was with a sudden ferocity, shoving him back onto the bed. He grinned as she straddled him, hitching her leg particularly over his right thigh and swearing at herself for it. She was still a little dry, but the lube from the condom helped as she worked herself down over him. She rode him hard as his hands worked frantically at her breasts and clit. When she came, it was a rough shudder of pleasure. No stars, no smell of roses, just her hands shaking and her clit painful when he pinched it and finally the welcome moisture easing his thrusts. Lazily she rocked against him. She knew when he came because he clutched at her breasts, his face screwing up unattractively.

He showered in the spare bathroom, dragged his dirty clothes back on, and kissed her cheek as he left. Going home to a girlfriend, maybe, or a wife. She hadn't thought about that before. She slung the wet towel over a chair and crawled into bed, pleasantly tired, pleasantly alone.

House limped up to her the next day, leaned over her chair, and leered down her shirt, saying something about administrators staying out too late. He leaned close, growling into her hair. His breath was hot against her cheek.

"Been playing the trollop again, Dr. Cuddy?"

"No one's used that word for about a hundred years, House," she said calmly, not looking at him. He huffed in displeasure and stomped away. It was absurd to think that she could feel the shifting air pressure as he moved around her office as brushes against her skin, but she knew without raising her eyes that he was glaring at her or reading her degrees or twitching his fingers so that they would brush along her thigh if he were ten feet closer. She felt his indignation prickling over her collarbones. It was infuriating and somehow gratifying to think that he was meddling this way. She could feel the little creases at the corners of her lips as her mouth tightened, but behind her teeth the words tasted more like a taunt than a reprimand.

"If you have a problem with my liaisons, House, I think you know what to do about that."

"Oh, I do," he said huskily. When she looked up, his blue eyes caught hers, bright and serious. She crossed her legs and felt the sudden slickness as heat rushed up her body.

"Well, then..." she fumbled for words.

"Well then," he said like a promise, and stomped out, leaving her to the delicious torture of anticipation.


End file.
